Banister Sliding
Keelan Wheyre desperatly tries not to let her lips twitch, but she knows something she isn't sharing(though it's about herself), and so merely nods, "Well, I hope when Ravenclaw plays against Gryffindor your flying is any good against their to-be Keeper." Keelan is confident he'll make it, after all, "or else you're in for a hard-learned lesson. Then, I suppose I've never seen you fly.. though I have heard from a person or so," she admirably doesn't flick her eyes to Emmaline, "you're remarkably good at boasting." With this Keelan slides into a seat and reaches for something to eat, completly ignoring him now. Brynne's smile is returned warmly and, after shifting a bit to settle into her seat, she inquires, "How is everyone on this lovely morning? Don't make those faces, misery loves company and he'll never leave."
Humming to herself, Eloise Peabody makes her entrance into the Great Hall jovially, nearly skipping. She surveys the room thoughtfully, attempting to recognize at least one or two faces in the crowd. As it turns out, she does in fact recognize someone- Brynne, from the sorting feast- but is thrown off upon realizing she's sitting at the Slytherin table, of all places. As she was instructed by her uninformed first-year counterparts /not/ to socialize with Slytherin, she tentatively sits at the Gryffindor table, close enough to listen in on the older students.
A grin forming on his face, Derrow Gahnarath breaks into a low chuckle, after a moment he's laughing, and soon he's laughing so hard that he's started banging his fist against the doorframe, tears streaming down his face. Derrow Gahnarath, laughing? Is it possible? He begins to hold his ribs, fearing an organ might shift within his merriment. After a few minutes, he manages to regain his composure, though his face is still quite red. He starts slowly, speaking quietly, "Emma, you're a hypocrite. You've become exactly what you call me. /My/ opinions of myself are too high? Shall I repeat /your/ little tirade from last night? Good Lord. Yes, when I see Brynne make the House Team, then I really will cry, cry for her House for having such a little talent pool. Good day ladies, keep working on those quips, I love dissecting them." With that, he turns and walks out of the hall.
Saints preserve us, will Yvonne Chamberlain never have a break? Of course not. She's the nurse. Nurses always have the worst job at the very beginning of the school year. Students falling down the stairs, then falling down more stairs. Problems with their wands and trying to be the hero, quaffing potions from potions class. Oy. The young woman strides into the hall however, with a light spring in her step, though her eyes look rather tired and battered.
Moving up to the Faculty table, she does not stop at all to speak with any of the students, but heads straight to sit down, and merely observe.
Its seems like everyone else is fighting with Derrow, and Lisbeth Vandersen isn't one to be left out. "Oh.. what is the big deal with Quidditch? Astra Rathe send =me= an invitation and I can't even fly. They probably just needed another name to fill the list. Besides, is =just= a stupid game." She then tries to get the conversation back to adventures. "You said there was more to it Brynne? Shall we go to, um, somewhere secret.." She glances back at Derrow to see if being left out of secret places might bother the boy " and you can tell us the rest?" Of course the boy runs out, "Typical" She grumbles, then turns back toward her group.
He is a snot," remarks Keelan Wheyre, now that he's gone. Later she might call him something long and nasty to his face, or perhaps she'll just continue to be polite and therefore give him nothing in which to sink his little hooks. "A scavenger for attention, my Auntie Mandy calls that type. It's too bad your team has to put up with him, Emma." She pauses to take a bite of whatever it is she's snagged for herself-a pastry, it seems. Wiping the crumbs from her mouth, Sltyherin-girl raises an eyebrow at Lisbeth, "Did she really? I'd be very excited to be asked to be on the team. However, I'll be trying out." She gives a shrug, then, and continues with breakfast.
If she were still a first year, she might cry. If she were still a first year, she might throw a nasty little tantrum. But no more shall that type of behavior rule the life of Brynne Lysaer, for she is a Second year student. (someone knock her off her pedestal, PLEASE) She turns back towards Lisbeth, Emmaline and Keelan as Derrow takes his parting shot and leaves, muttering under her breath. "What a coward. He can't even stay to hear out my word." She shrugs, and smiles again, pulling out her parchment for Keelan. "This is a letter from Professor Sanctimonia. Or Agent Sanctimonia now. We should go somewhere else so I can tell you all about it. It's just... /too/ noisy in here, and I don't want to have to raise my voice." She nods, lying straight through her teeth, and looking around the room. Eloise, the first year who Brynne Lysaer saw at the feast is given a rather friendly smile and an enthusiastic wave with her letter hand.
He's a coward, he did the same thing last night. He doesn't even have the courage of his...of his...beliefs...to stand and defend them." Yes, that was exactly what Professor Fallon would say about the likes of Derrow. Glancing up at Brynne Emmaline Braedenton shakes off the Threatening-Boy's presence. The lout. Forcing a smile she nods to Brynne. "We can go to Godwinknoll. No one usually bothers us there."
A dark mist hangs over the area as Slazzurus Khalleria bows his head in respect of those in the room, and turns to sit in a chair. No smile crosses his face. Every movement of his is tense and erratic. His is no good mood, and he frowns slightly at the merriness happening around him for he is the only morose person in the room, or so he thinks. However, he cannot blame others for their good fortune. Shrugging at this, he pulls up his hood, and fingers his vest again. Nonetheless, his heartbreaking expression is not seen for the shrouding hood he owns covers all of his face. Drawing a book from his pocket, he puts his hand on the cover and lets it lie on the table, with a sad, miserable, yet enchanting look vibrating from him. No words can define his mood as of now. Yet he is still righteous and honorable, for the good have their bad times, as well as the wicked who may also have their good times.
Slazzurus Khalleria takes a seat at the Ravenclaw Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "Hello"
Slazzurus Khalleria stands up from the Ravenclaw Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria takes a seat at the Staff Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "Hello, Nurse."
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "How are you doing, Mz. Chamberlain?"
Slazzurus Khalleria nods his head, and starts to leave the table.
Slazzurus Khalleria stands up from the Staff Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria walks out through `(N)orth'.
Slazzurus Khalleria comes in from Narrow Corridor.
Slazzurus Khalleria whispers something to Brynne Lysaer
Slazzurus Khalleria whispers something to Brynne Lysaer
A forced smile appears on Slazzurus Khalleria's face. The school is much too big for him to memorize such passages.
Lisbeth Vandersen shifts, then stands from where she is seated at the Slytherin table with her friends. Pausing once to scowl at Slazzurus' antics she grumbles a, "This isn't a barn. Show some manners!" Then puts on a smile and turns back to her group. "The 'knoll then? And Brynnie can tell us all about the rest of that note."
Slazzurus Khalleria frowns, and bows toward the Lisbeth. "Sorry, just got up from my dorm. Late sleeper." He sighes slowly, and eyes south with a vigilant stare.
Oh the impropriety to approach a /Second/ year student without proper introduction. You could be severely reprimanded for doing that in the real world as well, but hey, it's modern, it's 1913. Brynne Lysaer just blinks as Slazzurus approaches her, and turns to him with a rather blank expression. "I'm sorry, I was just going to leave with my friends. Perhaps you should ask one of your house prefects to show you the way around." She shrugs, then turns back to her friends. "Let's go to the 'knoll."
Keelan Wheyre finishes off her breakfast and stands with a nod, "I don't care for sticking around here past breakfast anyway, so let's go to the 'knoll." She nearly forgets her duty as part of the Welcoming Committee, and 'accidently' forgot her pin this morning.. but the Slytherin girl manages to give a weak smile and nod of acknowledgment of their prescense to the younger students. Catch her later and she might /talk/ to them, and what a privilage
that will be. Or not.
Slazzurus Khalleria nods, and wanders around the Great hall with a bored expression his face. A slight scowl appears on his face, and he flicks back his cloaks. Examining the ceiling and the walls, he raises an eyebrow. "Strange material to make a school out of." He blinks, and suddenly notices Emmaline, who he'd met in the commons room before. "Hi, Emmaline. Care to show me around the Brick Prison?" The boy grins slightly at his own name for Hogwarts.
Slazzurus Khalleria eyes the walls closer... "Make that Stone Prison."
Slazzurus Khalleria whispers something to Emmaline Braedenton
Lisbeth Vandersen hmpfs once at Slazzarus, then starts to head for the dorms. So far she is free from Secondyear-itis, but she isn't exactly showing it at the moment. Sure, she wants to be nice to first years. But does she really have to be nice to such ill bred first years as ones hat sit down at the =Staff= table? Why, its a shock that Nurse woman didn't take some points off of Ravenclaw for such disrespect. "Look, Boy." She makes the word 'boy' into an insult. "We are busy doing important things. Emmaline has better things to do then lead you around the school. You know when I was a first year, we all wandered around and explored on our own. Have you tried that." Ok, maybe Secondyear-itis is catching after all.
To the 'knoll." She liked how that sounded. Rising to her feet she glances at Slazzarus and shakes her head, "We haven't been introduced, have we?" It was so impolite to call someone by name when you haven't met them. But he was a Firstie so Emma just smiles and shakes her head, "I'm sorry. I have plans with my friends. I'm going with them just now. Maybe later." Emmaline Braedenton gives another fleeting smile and stands with her friends.
Bernard Nightingale saunters into the room, hands thrust deep into his pockets, a rather giddy smile firmly plastered across his features. Suger high? Undoubtedly, for the lad was seen to devour half-a-dozen custard tarts at breakfast. But then, when hasn't he been seen smiling?
Slazzurus Khalleria shrugs, and eyes north. Stopping to take a look at his watch, he shrugs yet again, a dark mood hanging over him. Sighing heavily, he wonders when the older termers would stop calling him 'an ickle little firstie'.
Or maybe they won't head to Godwinknoll yet. Now that Slazzurus has decided to stay and ask Emmaline instead. Didn't Brynne Lysaer specify a /prefect/? Maybe she didn't. She nods at Lisbeth, Keelan and Emmaline, still clutching the parchment in her hands from Agent Sanctimonia. Important stuff it holds, and other secret things that other people /cannot/ see, other than her friends. "Let's go. Let's hurry..." she whispers quietly to the three girls, standing up from the Slytherin table and frowning at Slazzurus. "Of the nerve. To /sit/ at the staff table? It's just unheard of."
Perhaps stunned by the fact that Brynne was indeed sitting at the Slytherin table- how could it not be her, she waved- Eloise Peabody doesn't make much of a move to acknowledge her back, only smiling oddly after a much longer than polite while. It seems her fellow first years truly have poisoned her toward Slytherin, for the moment.
Slazzurus Khalleria comes in from Narrow Corridor.
Bernard Nightingale pauses, seemingly shocked, as the ravenclaw trots through the room too many times for comfort. "Crikey" he marvels, offering a low whistle. "What d'you suppose is the matter with 'im? Running to and fro like some sort of pop-eyed penguin?"
Slazzurus Khalleria bows his head slightly in respect, knowing the little regard the older terms give him. Striding to his table in a slow fashion, and sighs. He stops just as he reaches the table. "I'm not a bird, that's one, and I'm not pop-eyed, that's two. If I am such, then I am a spell-casting 'pop-eyed penguin'." Slazzurus imitates Bernard's voice perfectly, and grins as he reads from his book.
Slazzurus Khalleria opens The Dark Arts to Section one.
Slazzurus Khalleria sets The Dark Arts aside.
Slazzurus Khalleria takes a seat at the Ravenclaw Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria stands up from the Ravenclaw Table.
Bernard Nightingale stares at Slazzurus, just long enough to make his amused disapproval known. "Aren't most penguins spell-casting? My sister told me that they water-proof themselves so their skin doesn't get icky and wrinkled. I know /mine/ does if I'm in a tub for more than arf an hour."
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "I'm going to check out that dungeon cell, Bernard. Want to come? I'm trying to find an ickle little secret passageway."
Slazzurus Khalleria gives a very quick wave, and in a flash, he is gone, racing north at such a speed that could beat ANY pop-eyed penguin.
Slazzurus Khalleria walks out through `(N)orth'.
Lisbeth Vandersen snorts and doesn't think Slazz's imitiation was that perfect. As her friends seem to be lingering a moment under the distraction that is the Ravenclaw boy (she is starting to get dizzy herself from all of his comings and goings) she turns to look at Bernard and offers the boy a smile, then heads out of the hall with her friends.
Brynne Lysaer smiles again at Eloise, even greeting the girl. "Hi Eloise, bye Eloise," before waving again and leaving the room, her eyes trying to focus on anything /but/ the moving First Year Ravenclaw. She follows Lisbeth and Emmaline out of the room, heading for the 'knoll.
Bernard Nightingale offers an elaborate shudder that would make anyone proud. "No thanks" he calls after the retreating ravenclaw. "Secret passageways are bound to be dirty and all covered with spider-webs and stuff."
Slazzurus Khalleria comes in from Narrow Corridor.
With a sleepy looking kitten clutched tightly in her arms, engulfed in the folds of her robe sleeves, a wide-eyed Faith Menhier slips quietly into the room. "Though I'd never fin' it again," she murmurs to herself, voice carrying little farther than her own ears. She pauses to look around, assuring herself that this is indeed the Great Hall, before wandering toward the Hufflepuff table.
Slazzurus Khalleria frowns and says, "Any fellow first years want to come and explore with me? I'm a bit bored." He eyes all the cracks in the floor and walls curiously, deciding if he should pry them open and check for trapdoors. His curiousity, however, doesn't seem to be as strong as his will not to get in trouble.
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "Anyone at all?"
Bernard Nightingale gazes wistfully at the slytherin table. "Why must you go poking about in these nasty...things? I heard there are going to be fruit tortes for tea, and it would not be too improper to raid the kitchens. And I haven't had my elevenses yet."
Yvonne Chamberlain stands up from the staff table, and rubs her eyes wearily after taking her spectacles off. She was not immune to the activities of the hall, and she is about as dizzy as the next person, watching Slazzurus walk in and out of the room. She heads for the service table to retrieve herself some coffee, or some strong tea, covering a yawn with her slender hand.
Slazzurus Khalleria shrugs and frowns yet again. Wonder why he has such strong muscles? He starts to race off to the west again, wondering if any one should follow him would say 'Aye'. "I'm off to the Owlery, anyone want me to drop off their owl there?"
Eloise Peabody watches Slazzurus intently. My that boy is odd- perhaps he's one of those infernal Slytherins the other girls were going on about so incessantly. The other boy though- he's all right indeed. She stands, not wanting to be the only one reclined. To Bernard, she exclaims, "Your skin does that?! You must be a great wizard. I bet you'll have your own card in no time." This aficianado of Chocolate Frogs can relate anything back to them, it seems- without allowing any of their calories to show on her body. Perhaps /that/ is a little magical ability she can call her own.
Slazzurus Khalleria sighs and shrugs, his feet barely touching the floor as he flies out the west entrance.
Slazzurus Khalleria walks out through `(W)est'.
Bernard Nightingale stares at Slazzurus for a few more moments, then turns his attention to Eloise. "Doesn't your skin wrinkle in the bath-tub? Mine does, horribly. Uncle used to say that I would end up like one of his dried prunes." A shudder of revulsion. "I don't much like prunes, they always make me feel a tad funny. I far prefer peaches, apples, and plums."
Enter Claire McCullough, who, as always, is loaded down with books, and foreboding-looking ones at that. Balancing somehow at the top of this incredible pile is a scroll, pre-measured at five feet. She stumbles (somehow) to her table, over her own large feet and with her lack of vision, sets the books down...oh...so...carefully without them tipping over, and then sets her bookbag next to them. She sees Eloise, who she recognizes from her house, and waves at her. Then she sees Yvonne, and smiles widly, going to the Nurse's side. "Hallo Yv...I mean, Nurse Chamberlain," she says with a small giggle at her slip-up.
Slazzurus Khalleria comes in from Entrance Hall; Northern Section.
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "I have a decent knowledge now of the first and second floors."
Slazzurus Khalleria says, "And of course, the third floor, the Owlery is there."
Slazzurus Khalleria suddenly stops, and slows down. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt anything?" The boy quickly stammers a dozen apologies at the same thing, and decides to sit still for a while.
Slazzurus Khalleria takes a seat at the Ravenclaw Table.
Slazzurus Khalleria stands up from the Ravenclaw Table.
Eloise Peabody nods slowly. "Oh, yes, I thought you said something else. I wrinkle in water too." She grins almost apologetically and shrugs. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Eloise Peabody. Gryffindor. Everyone has been saying it's the best house. I think they're right, I mean, I really like it." She winces, realizing she hadn't seen Bernard in her commons or at her house table. "But the other houses must be good too. I mean, this is Hogwarts, after all." It seems she forgot somewhere along the line that she inquired of his name, as she kept talking- though were it to be volunteered, she'd be happy to hear it.
As the Hufflepuff firstie stops by her table, not yet choosing to sit, she lowers her hands to let the kitten tumble onto the seat. "Now don't you go too far," she tells it, while the creature, of course, pays no attention and scampers off across the room. As for Faith Menhier, she turns to watch the other students. Slazzurus is offered a curious look, yet she says nothing yet - just attempts to listen.
Slazzurus Khalleria smiles and tilts his head slightly toward his pet owl, who seems awkward sitting on his falconry glove. "Slazzurus Swordspell Maximus Khalleria... that's my full name. Call me Slazz."
Bernard Nightingale offers his right hand...a slender, delicate, porcelain appendage, whose grip of steel often surprises those who are unacquainted with it. "Bernard Nightingale, Slytherin" he replies cheerily. "Anyhow, how about we go scrumping? And then sliding down banisters, after which we can break for our luncheon, then visit the owls. Followed by...chocolate cake, perhaps? And then we can visit the lake and go for a swim, and by then it will be tea-time."
Slazzurus Khalleria eyes Bernard. "A swim in the lake? I'll come. I still wish I had my sword. Took some fencing lessons when I moved from the States to the London." Slazz nods slowly. "Heard there some beasts who probably want your flesh for dinner. Watch out. Like I said, can I come? Otherwise, I'd try to find someone who'd teach me how to fly. Quite dangerous, and I might need Mz. Chamberlain's assistance." He eyes the nurse gratefully, wondering what he'd probably break /trying/ to play Quidditch... A nose? An arm? A leg?
Parading about in her paper cat's eyes mask, raven locks tucked up under a beret, the Gryffindor quadruplet waltzes into the Great Hall in spirits a great deal better than this morning, and the day previous. She is still, of course, immensely distraught over the separation from her sisters...but Kitty's promises on revenge upon the hat have cheered Verdine Verlegt up immensely. "Good afternoon," she greets airily, skipping over to the
Ravenclaw table. She's Aurea. Really. Yep.
Morag Minter wanders the length of the table, trailing her fingers along the wood. Pausing near the group, she stops and smiles, giving Bernard a curious glance. The words 'chocolate cake' resonate in her brain like echos in a cavern "Some of those banisters are awfully.... curvey" she offers to anyone and possible no one.
Shaking Bernard's hand carefully, Eloise Peabody makes a concerted effort to not be affected by his house affiliation. They're all people, after all, right? Continuing with their conversation, Eloise Peabody responds, though her talk has become a bit more forced. "Er, very nice to meet you, Bernard. All of that sounds like fun." And against her better judgment, "I'd love to go do all of that."
Slazzurus Khalleria grins. "Like I said, anyone have the time for giving me some flying lessons?" He still wonders if he could borrow a broom somewhere. Pulling his raven black hair back, he shrugs, and starts to leave.
Bernard Nightingale appears notably taken aback, and lowers his voice. "They do say that all sorts of demons come from America" he confides, to anyone who might be listening. Nevertheless, he brightens quickly, and beams a smile at the entire room. "Are there any fruit-orchards? Scrumpings no good without them, you know. I s'ppose we could start on the banisters..."
Flying lessons?" Verdine Verlegt pipes up eagerly, dropping the mask from her face for a moment before remembering the reservations of her Ravenclaw sister. "I mean, uhm, flying lessons. How very droll." Raising the bit of paper to her face again, the girl slumps into her seat, peering after Slazzurus wistfully. Pretending to be Aurea is going to be harder than she
thought. Must speak to Carmine about this.
Morag Minter nods at Bernard "It doesn't matter which to do first" and she extends her hand "Morag" and continuing in one breath " I saw choke cherry trees - can you scrump choke cherries" she doesn't know.
Faith Menhier clasps her hands before her, almost fidgeting a bit as they twist into a comfortable position. The Hufflie begins to lean back onto the edge of the table, then stops, instead taking a small and curious step forward and turning her eyes on Bernard and Eloise. "I've no idea, truly," she admits in response to the question, 'drawn in' by the smile. "Would you mind overly if I joined you two? What're we talking about?"
Cecelia Remington hurries in, trailing books and other debris as she lopes over to her house table. "Gah." is the breathless greeting to the other occupants, the child having apparently little or no self consciousness. "-So- many stairs! I swear it takes me a week to get down to dinner." she complains good naturedly, a red ribboned ringlet thrown over her shoulder carelessly.
Eloise Peabody shrugs genially, almost forgetting the boy's a Slytherin. Offering a grin to Morag, she remarks, "Maybe, if there are the choke cherries, there's something else somewhere else too?" She ignores Bernard's demon comment, not knowing how to respond- and writing off the behaviour as a peculiarity to Slytherins that must be ignored. As the other students gather round, she makes sure to greet them all in turn with a smile. "We were planning on having a bit of fun. Er...scrumping? And sliding down banisters."
Bernard Nightingale sighs, the brilliance of his smile fading somewhat. "I don't suppose that fruit is in season" he confesses, conceivably crestfallen. "But...." Every misfortune has a silver lining. "That means we can slide down the banisters right away! I've even got a few wooden boxes we can use. My guardian thought them more practical than carpet-bags."
Morag Minter nods at Eloise encouragingly and then gives Bernard a worried smile "There should be something, somewhere" she agrees "It'll be fun" she adds - ready for fun now after the mad rush and panic of the last fortnight "What do you use the boxes for though - do they balance?"
Abigail Golden walks in smileing. She overhears somethin about sliding down banisters and her smile grows bigger. She walks over to the crowd and mid way there she points at her arm with her wand and there pops a huge blanket. As she reaches the crowd she smiles and says. "Hello there. NOt getting into trouble I hope..."
Eloise Peabody brightens, having not been entirely clear on scrumping- but perfectly well versed in the art of banister sliding. "Really? I didn't bring anything like that here...my mother insisted that I should only have what the letter said. Oh, and a few little things, I guess, but no boxes or anything. And she went to Hogwarts, so I figured she knew." The Gryffindor shrugs, having gone on about that more for conversation's sake than a real worry or care.
Cecelia Remington folds her arms, the table apparently empty of interesting people. Slipping off it, eyes shift over the room accordingly before landing on a bunch of sociable-looking first years. She saunters up to the gaggle: Morag, Eloise, Bernard et al. "I'm Cecy Remington." is announced with boundless enthusiasm. "Can I join you lot? I'm one of the new ones.. I assume you all are too?"
Bernard Nightingale sniffs elaborately. "The boxes are for sitting in" he replies, before turning to Abigail, his expression one of utter innocence. "Trouble? Certainly not. Trouble is to be avoided at all cost." A sage nod, before he darts towards the exit. "I'll get the boxes."
Abigail Golden 's smiles fades. "Darn I was hopeing I could join you on those slippery railings. It's been quite some time sence I have used this." She holds up the blanket and her head hangs. Abi's pretty good at acting sad.
Sounds like fun," Faith Menhier admits, smiling slightly at the group. She's spent so much time wandering around lost that she's not had time for good old fun. "I've only got bags with me, and nothing good for.." For whatever that is for, which Morag has so nicely asked for her. Stepping the rest of the way toward the other first years, she lifts her hand to Cecelia, and sets about introducing herself as well. It might be a good idea, after all. "Faith. Faith Menhier. I'm a Hufflepuff."
Morag Minter is unsure how one uses boxes or blankets for sliding down banisters, but she doesn't comment, although a worried look starts to grow and she begins to gnaw on her bottom lip "I slid down banisters at home. We had a wonderful one - very fast" she nods at Faith and Abigail, tossing her own name into the mix "Morag Millicent Minter. I'm from Cardiff."
Nice to meet you." Cecelia Remington beams at Faith, before catching snippets of the conversation in hand. "Bannister sliding? That sounds fun." she adds hopefully, inviting herself in with customary confidence. She joins the crowd of first years properly, adding to faith: "I'm in Gryffindor." with only a touch of house pride. "Cardiff? I'm from.. well, everywhere, really. I was born in Surrey, though. But I haven't been back since I was born. My Papa's a soldier, you see."
Aritt Codune walks in after a long day in his common room waiting for people to talk to, looks around and sees his friend Emma Warren from the Leaky Cauldron, "Hey Emma, you having fun here too?"
Emma Warren looks at the boy, waving. "Hello Aritt!" she smiles. "I am having a great time. I need to go to the Gyffindor towe, to find my sister. Would you like to come?"
Aritt Codune nods his head and says, "Lets go then."
Faith Menhier gives Cecelia a nod, raising a hand to flip back the hair that slides over her shoulder. "You can come, if you like. He's got some boxes, I think, and we're all going up to the top floor." She stops with a slight, worried frown, looking after the departed Slytherin. "I'd better hurry and follow him though, or I'll /never/ find my way up. 'Less you're able to lead me, of course." "If you're coming."
Sliiiide-flop. Carmine Verlegt descends the stairs on her heels, bumping from one plinth to the next, her skirts flumping with her each time. The girl wears a small white paper mask that looks rather like a cat's eyes, and a burgundy beret that obscures her hair. She glances around surrepticiously, before wandering over to the Hufflepuff table with a whistle.
Morag Minter grins at Faith and nods at Cecelia as she turns to follow Bernard "My papa is a professor at the University. It was nice to meet you". She waves "Well see you".
Still retaining her wistful little air, Verdine Verlegt, acting as Aurea Verlegt, watches (through her own mask, of course) the small crowd about Bernard disperse, presumably off to commence the bits of mischief she overheard. So preoccupied with the misfortunes of being a Ravenclaw, that she doesn't pick upon her sister's presence for a full thirty seconds. Then, of course, she perks up and practically flies from the Ravenclaw table over to the Hufflepuff table. "Ki...Zaza!"
Zaza who? Oh! Kitty turns, and winks at her sister from beyond the mask - before she fears for her safety and ducks behind the table to avoid being crushed to Verdine's chest. "Of course, Reed...how did you like the sorting?" Carmine Verlegt's chipper tones are impossible to obscure...so she may have trouble there. However, her eye colour is similar to that of her Hufflepuff sister, so she plays it off. "How are you getting along with all the
smarty-pants-puff-n'-stuffs?"
Cecelia Remington shakes a ribboned head as the students trail off, in two minds whether to follow or stay where she is. "Are you going to go?" she asks Faith as Morag disappears, dark eyes taking in the remaining students. "How are they going to use boxes to slide down bannisters anyway? Wouldn't that just slow them up?" she muses, her tone becoming lighter as she thinks out loud.
Oh, it was positively...uhm...well, it was all right, I suppose..." Desperate for her sister's ability to string together words, and uncertain of the 'new' quads' position on that horrible, horrible sorting, Verdine Verlegt stumbles over her answer. "And they're not smarty pants! We all read books together, and stuff." Well, she's getting better.
Looking toward the door as Morag also departs, and watching her means of getting upstairs disappear, Faith Menhier shrugs before turning back to Cecelia. "I mean to.. It ought to be fun, really. And I don't know what the boxes are for, but he did mention them, so I assume he knows." She reaches out the, meaning to tug gently on her companion's sleeve. "You /should/ come.. Maybe by the time we get up there, we can figure it out."
Carmine Verlegt tries not to giggle...but it comes out. "Well...we just...um...putter around, mainly." She leans close to 'Aurea,' to whisper, "My house is so BORING." True both for Slytherin, and Hufflepuff, as far as she can see. "Have you met your house head yet?"
Alright then." Cecelia Remington wrinkles her nose before making her way out of the hall, loping in front of faith. Her destination, apparently, is the seventh floor staircase.
,-[ Hogwarts - Seventh Floor ]------------------------------------------------.
Bernard Nightingale has amassed a rather large pile of wooden boxes, and is already comfortably seated in one, scone in hand. It would appear that he has come prepared, for there is a rather large, platter-ful of the pastries on the ground beside him. "Have a scone? I've got blueberry and raspberry, but that's it I fear."
Cecelia Remington appears, a tad out of breath once again. You run all the way downstairs: spend ten minutes in the hall, and then lope up them all again. She leans against the wall as Faith appears, not far behind her. "So." she addresses Bernard and his boxes. "What are all these for? Are we going to slide down the -stairs- or the -bannisters?" inquires Cecy, clearly perplexed. "Else won't the boxes fall of the banisters and we'll all slide to our doom?"
Bernard Nightingale merely offers an enigmatic shrug. "I was thinking we might to both, just to see which one is more amusing. Besides, sliding down bannisters is supposed to wear out one's pants, and I don't have many pairs."
Faith Menhier peeks in behind Cecelia, blinking at Bernard and his set-up. "Are there many more floors to this place?" She, perhaps, is also slightly short on breath. Running around and climbing stairs are definitely not the same. The girl snags one of the pastries in a hand, taking a nibble of the edge. "Where'd you get these from? And are you really going to use boxes on the banister, or just the stairs themself? I don't suppose we could manage to go /all/ the way down at once.."
What about those moving staircase?" Cecelia Remington peers down the set they've just come up, as if hoping it will suddenly turn on it's head or join to some other corridor. It doesn't, and she looks disappointed, but continues regardless: "I've heard about them. And I saw one, a prefect pointed it out. They'd be wizard fun to climb down, don't you think?"
Bernard Nightingale leans forward, causing his box to tip ever so slightly. "Crikey...why don't we slide down one of 'em? I noticed a levitation charm in our textbooks, but I've never gotten to cast it. D'you suppose it might help with the sliding?"
Morag Minter is huffing and puffing as she climbs up "Gosh it's easy to get lost in here don't ya think" and in the same breath "I just past a bunch of seconders - do you think they are plotting something and why is everyone so cranky. I would have thought that everyone would be happy to be back at school - I can't wait to start classes, can you?". She pauses just long enough to look around "They warned us against being on the moving staircases, but if they move without you knowing it, how can you tell?"
I don't know." Cecelia Remington replies wonderingly to Morag, peering down the stairs once again before turning back to Bernard. "I think we should." she agrees solidely, picking up a box and expecting it for sturdiness. "This one looks good enough. Cast a charm on it." she commands, a dimple appearing in one cheek. "I mean.. I don't know how to do any magic yet, myself."
What if you fell off the end?" Faith Menhier inquires a bit dubiously. Any doubt is pushed aside by Bernard's suggestion, however, spells being something to catch her attention. "Do you think you could manage? I've not had chance to try any charms, to tell the truth." "I don't know how you could tell. I suppose you just hope it doesn't." Another bite of her pastry
finishes off the sentence, gaze drifting to the stairs.
Morag Minter boggles a little at the thought of casting a charm or anything actually "Can we" she asks almost breathlessly.
Bernard Nightingale fumbles around in his pockets for his wand, temporarily holding his pastry in his mouth. "I dunno 'ow oo ast a arm" he mutters, finally locating the object. "But, it certainly can't hurt to try, right? They wouldn't try to teach us /dangerous/ things. Not yet."
Cecelia Remington holds her own wand out, though with less poised elegance and more 'grapple for dear life in case it escapes' in the stance of her fingers. "What's the charm then, boy wonder?" she asks Bernard cheerfully, labelling him as the bright spark of the group as the aims the willow instrument at the nearest box. "Where did you get all the food from?" she asks the crowd, looking hopefully for picniv hidden amongst the debris.
I pinched it from the kitchens" is Bernard Nightingale's cheerful reply. "As for the charm...umm. I think it is Wingidsium Levora...or something like that. Maybe if you mumble the phrase it'll work. That always worked on my old school teachers."
Faith Menhier points out helpfully, "They /haven't/ tried to teach it, yet." Oh well. Her free hand is employed in grabbing one of the boxes and drawing it closer to her, then dropping it at her feet as she pulls out her own wand. Worth a try, at least. "Wingsi-what levora?"
Morag Minter blinks at Faith and Bernard respectively and then bend her head and fumbles for her own wand "It's Levora isn't it?". Wishing she'd brought a textbook she gently holds her wand, frowning at it slightly. Lifting her head she asks suddenly "What electives are you going to take". Again, this is asked generally and not specifically.
Wingsiumardra Loveisae." is the very mumbled attempt of Cecelia Remington's, the words running in to each other and the spell, needless to say, having very little effect. "Wingadsium Levora." she repeats, the inflexions different this time but no more successful. "Oh, one of you people try." she complains good naturedly, stepping out of the way of the boxes.
Bernard Nightingale scratches his head ever so slightly, then points his wand at the box. "Wingidsium Levora...Win/gid/sium Levora. /Win/gidsium levor/a/." A pause, as he examines the tip of his wand. "Oh, you /stupid/ git!" he cries, waving his wand about wildly. A poof of smoke, a loud bang...and we are left with one very-astonished, soot-begrimed Bernard Nightingale.
Jumping back, Morag squeals as the puff of smoke eminates from Bernard. Coughing and waving her hand in front of her face she shakes her head, giggling "Are you alright Bernard!"
Faith Menhier swallows the last bit of her pasty, then switches the hand her wand is in. "Wingigidium.. no.. Wingidsium. Wingidsium Leviosa?" she murmurs, mostly to herself, after listening to the other attempts to cast it. There, she's got it. Maybe. She jumps at the bang, then peers at Bernard with an almost amused expression - if she wasn't worried, she'd not be able to hold back a giggle of her own. "Are.. Are you all right? You're awful dirty. But if you're not hurt, I'll try, maybe."
Waving away the last puff of smoke, Morag Minter shakes her head and glances between Faith and Bernard "Maybe we should just try it the old fashioned way and slide" breaking a neck, leg, or both likely "Or we could just sit in the box and slide down the stairs." she glances down the winding staircase "that might be fun" she adds, somewhat dubiously.
Bernard Nightingale coughs dejectedly...but he, too, is unable to restrain a giddy giggle. "Actually, it was kind of fun" he replies, cheerily. "Not certain how it happened...If it weren't for the soot I'd do it again."
Cecelia Remington cackles witchily at the soot encrusted bernard. "Wow. At least something happened." she comforts, nodding towards Faith. "Yours sounded right. Do it again." she commands, finding a seat on an upturned box while she waits for something to happen. Actually helping would be far too much like hard work.
Fun? Might as well give it a go, then. "Wingidisium Leviora!" Faith Menhier demands, accompanied by a rather wild wave of her wand at her own box. It doesn't seem to do much. Her second, even more insistant attempt, follows; "Wingideriusm Levoria!" As nothing still happens, she sighs. "Am I doing something /wrong/?"
Oh, I shall." Almost slipping off the railing as she speaks, Cecelia maintains a brittle smile as she replies. She lets go, the newly polish bannister taking to being slid down rather well, it must be said. Gaining speed, it is only towards the bottom that she loses her balance, a petticoat catching a nail loose in the wood, Not only does it eject Cecelia Remington from the railing, it also rips the cherished lace of the petticoat, leaving it hanging rather forlornly from the stairwell. For the child's part, she is bruised and dazed but not too injured. "I'm okay!" she calls up cheerfully to her companions, lest they be anxious.
Bernard Nightingale smiles sheepishly, and turns to Faith. "Would you like to go next, or should I?" he inquires softly.
Dropping her box, the Hufflepuff instead moves toward the banister, following the earlier lead of the Gryffindor. "Oh, let me. Unless you mind, of course. It does look fun.. We had no good banisters at home. Not long like this." Faith Menhier grabs on to pull herself to a perch, stopping there to look at Bernard. Must be absolutely sure he doesn't mind waiting.
Bernard Nightingale nods, offering a grin as he approaches the railing. "Good luck" he murmurs. "Very well then. Away with you."
Faith Menhier clambers up onto the railing, not managing the best of grips before she starts to slide down. And she has not the luck to stop herself and hang on better, either, which provides for a rather wild ride down.. at least, as wild as sliding down a banister is capable of getting. She makes it a good deal of the way before coming to a landing, ending seated on one of the stairs, one arm still above her holding on. "Not the best of tries, I think.." She calls up, letting to scoot away from the rail.
Bernard Nightingale impishly tosses a leg over the banister, then slips away with a wild shriek. Nevertheless, to his credit, he offers Faith a tip of an imaginary cap as he sails by...and out of sight.